Chapter Seven – Abandoned
Jo stirred from where she sat dozing in the living room and tiredly glanced out in the small passageway leading to the police section of the house. "Nick?" she asked carefully as she thought she'd heard something.
"Yeah, it's me love, I'm so sorry. Something came up," he said wearily.
"You can't go on like this Nick," she complained softly. "I've hardly seen you this week. I preferred it when you brought the work back home with you to this."
"I'll make it up to you," he promised as he sat down next to her and put his arms around her.
"Katie has asked for you," Jo said as she leaned backwards in the sofa, looking up at him.
Nick looked away, feeling sorry for his daughter.
Jo studied him for a moment and then reached over to place a gentle hand on his forehead. "You're hot Nick," she said softly.
"Thank you," he returned cheekily. "I'm glad you feel that way."
"No, silly," she replied with a quirk.
He, determinately, but gently took away her small hand from his forehead. "There's nothing wrong with me Jo," he assured her as he placed her hand in her lap and reached up to take away a curl from her face.
"Well, in that case…" she trailed off as their eyes locked with each other.
They looked at each other for a moment, lost in time.
"Come on," Nick said suddenly with a cunning smile. "Let's head upstairs."
"If you insist," Jo returned with a gleam in her eye.
OOOOOO
"Hey!" An annoyed voice called out as Phil inserted the key into the lock to the holding cell section.
"You can't keep us here," another voice complained. "You've got no right, I demand a solicitor."
"Keep your shirt on," Phil countered as he walked down the corridor, not the least moved by their little speech. "May I inform you two gentlemen that you're in no position to demand anything," he added as he came to stand outside the holding cell housing both of the men taken into custody for trying to steal antiques.
"We haven't done anything wrong," the one who'd spoken up first said testily.
"Really? And what exactly where you doing in Mr. Simpson's garden?" Phil asked curiously, his voice carefully neutral.
"Look, our car broke down and we needed to use his phone," the other suspect explained sourly.
"Now," Phil began in a serious voice. "I don't want any trouble so behave yourself."
The policeman carefully inserted the key in the lock and twisted the doorknob. He set his eyes on the shortest man, clad in a blue working coverall. "You will come with me," Phil said.
"And what if I refuse?" he challenged.
Phil raised a questionable eyebrow. "Why not? If your car broke down and you just needed to borrow the phone I don't really see the point of arguing with me over the matter," he reasoned as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Or maybe you have something to hide?"
The man let out a frustrated sigh. "Show me the way copper," he said.
OOOOOO
Nick Rowan looked up from where he was sitting, at the table in the interrogation room, as the door opened revealing Phil and Ben Barton, one of the two men brought into custody the day before.
"You're only wasting your time," the man muttered as Phil indicated for him to sit down opposite Nick.
"It's my time to waste, Mr. Barton," Nick replied casually.
Barton sat down and leaned over the table with malice in his eyes.
However, nor Nick or Phil paid any notice.
"Drop the innocent act," Nick said as he turned to look at the man instead of the folder in front of him.
"Charade?" Barton asked, baffled, making it sound like some hilarious accusation. "I'm sticking with the story. Our car broke down, I suggested that we should take a walk to the nearest cottage and ask for permission to use the phone," he explained, barely able to contain his annoyance.
"I'll tell you what really happened," Nick said in a low and serious voice as he leaned forward in his chair, his eyes locking with Barton's. "You and your friend, currently residing in the holding cell, decided to have a run for the money. You read in the newspaper the other day about Mr. Simpson bragging about his new antique statues. Considering what you've managed to steal so far you got cocky and careless, thinking it would be a walk in the park."
A faint curl appeared on Barton's upper lip as he straightened in the chair. "It's up to you to prove it," he challenged.
"The fact that you're not denying it is a good start," Nick returned.
"What you're suggesting is ridiculous," Barton said confidently.
Nick gave a ghost of a smile and decided to play his cards, he only hoped he could play them right.
"Tell me; did you ever wonder why Jones managed to get away?" he asked deadpan.
Some of the cockiness disappeared from Barton's face but he quickly caught himself. "Jones?" he asked dumbfounded.
"Come on, I thought you were smarter than you looked," Phil piped up, unable to keep the upward quirk from showing on his lip.
"Were the goods set to be delivered to the lorry garage?" Nick asked in a straightforward manner.
"No," Barton began pointedly. "What garage?" he quickly added.
"Don't play dumb, Mr. Barton, it doesn't suit you," Nick replied. "Considering the amount of antiques you've managed to nick right under our colleagues noses and then some under ours shows you're not wet behind the ears."
The man said nothing, unable to decide whether or not to brag about his achievements.
"How unfortunate for you that Ted Jones decided to switch home base," Nick said. "Thanks to him we managed to arrest you pretty fast."
Barton couldn't take it any longer. Enraged, he leant forward again with a malice in his eye that gave Nick involuntary goose bumps. "I knew something was wrong with that guy!" he said in barely controlled anger as he slammed his fist on the table.
Phil leant backwards in his chair, his eyes wide as saucers. "Calm down," he cautioned.
Nick gave a small triumphant smile. 'So this was the right guys after all and Ted Jones definitely had something to do with the thefts,' he thought.
"He wanted the money for himself!" Barton said, his voice still raised.
"Don't take it personally," Phil said smartly. "Everyone can be fooled," he offered with a sideway glance at Nick.
Realizing his mistake, Barton calmed down and gathered his wits. "I'm not saying anything more without a solicitor present," he said.
There was a knock on the door and the moment later DI Shiner's head popped through the opening, his eyes focusing on Nick.
The Ashfordly sergeant nodded and got out of his chair. "Phil, I think it's enough for now, take him around the back and then bring the other one here," he instructed as he walked out of the room.
DI Shiner waited patiently in the duty room as Nick came out to him. "Any luck?" he asked, wasting no time.
"I'd say so," Nick let on. "We know they're part of the antique gang and that they have connections with Ted Jones."
Shiner nodded. "That's good, Rowan," he commended. "Is there a possible connection to Charles Chadwick in all this?" he pressed.
"I can't tell yet, sir, but it is very likely," Nick replied.
OOOOOO
Gina Ward drove her little car over to the Ashfordly Estate and parked next to the large Bentley, gleaming in the afternoon sun.
She sighed as she got out of the vehicle and headed over to the door, a bunch of papers in hand.
Before she could place her hand on the bell, the door opened revealing the housekeeper.
"My lordship will be with you shortly, Miss Ward," Mrs. Kellet said politely.
"Thanks," Gina said in a friendly manner.
Kellet nodded with a ghost of a smile as she retracted into the house, leaving the young barmaid to stand on the porch.
Gina cast a quick glance at her wristwatch and then turned to look around the large park, surrounding the estate.
"Mrs. Ward!" Lord Ashfordly exclaimed as he stepped out. "I hope you haven't been waiting long."
"Not at all, your lordship," she assured him.
"I'm grateful you were able to accept my offer. I was a bit unsure whether or not you could, considering your uncle is no longer working alongside you," Ashfordly said, his voice hinting arrogance yet he was smiling.
Gina could easily hear the patronizing undertone in his voice and bit her tongue. "It might be a busy schedule but I assure you, my lordship, that I'm quite capable of handing out drinks over a counter," she said, keeping her voice as neutral as she could.
The rich Estate owner visibly relaxed. "Well then, it wasn't my intention to be patronizing," he said humbly. "It's just that I expect everything to go smoothly and I'm used to dealing with older men with various degrees."
"I assure you, Lord Ashfordly, that I will have everything set when the time comes," she said and looked down at the papers in her hand. "I came here to deliver the list of brands ordered and to discuss the price and so on."
Charles Ashfordly nodded. "I appreciate your businesslike manner," he said in approval. "Please come in and sit down."
Gina Ward smiled inwardly as she walked into the large Estate. Uncle George hadn't kept her in the bar just because she was his niece and now it was time to show it.
OOOOOO
"It's…it's not a bomb is it?" Greengrass said, trying to be funny, as Blaketon placed a rather large parcel on the counter.
"Who knows, Greengrass," the former sergeant said icily, not in the mood for any smart comments. "I can think of plenty who want to make your life miserable."
Claude harrumphed. "Can't be much more miserable than it is," he muttered and looked over at Blaketon in annoyance. "Are you going to charge me for it as well?"
"As much as it hurt my feelings," he let on, looking smug. "Unfortunately the fee for the parcel doesn't bring me any extra incomes, only the post office."
"At least there is some kind of justice in the world," Greengrass returned.
"What's in the parcel?" Blaketon asked, trying hard not to let his curiosity show.
"That, my dear Blaketon, is between the sender and me," Claude said eliciting a look of annoyance from the former sergeant, causing him to feel utterly pleased with himself. He gently lifted the parcel from the counter and headed out with the instructions for making good goat's cheese.
OOOOOO
To be continued
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